


Portrait for the Dead

by sophluorescent



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Chronic Illness, M/M, Painter!Yixing, Polyamory, Supernatural Elements, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:14:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophluorescent/pseuds/sophluorescent
Summary: “So Yixing, how long have you been painting?” Baekhyun asks, rolling a crick out of his neck before resuming his pose. His voice is like velvet. Yixing almost misses the question.“I started with music, actually,” he explains, glancing between the models and the canvas. “Which I’ve practiced since I was a kid, and then I picked up drawing and painting when I was turning… thirteen maybe? So about twenty years, now, I suppose.”“Long time,” Junmyeon says. The sentiment isn’t echoed by Baekhyun.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Junmyeon | Suho, Byun Baekhyun/Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57
Collections: EXO MONSTERFEST 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this was written as a self-prompt for Monsterfest 2020. I’ve wanted to write a vampire-tale for a while and originally I was going to write something dark, a bit gorey, but as I was sketching out what I wanted to do… this premise came to mind. It’s definitely not dark or moody, but I fell in love with the idea, so here it is! 
> 
> Yixing’s a teacher in this fic, which is all well and nice, but I suppose there’s a somewhat idealistic view of a classroom environment portrayed here. 
> 
> Please take note of the warnings and, if you enjoy, please do leave a kudo or a comment! I love hearing what you think ❤︎
> 
> **This was actually written pre-COVID, but the timeline uh... stuck it in a bad time :/ Probably wouldn't have written about lung diseases had I known we were about to roll through a global pandemic with one.

“Did everyone get their snacks?” He asks, minutes after his last student takes a seat, napkin full of little goodies clutched in hand. It’s not much—mostly just cheap junk food—but he knows the kids like it, and it can’t hurt to have a little snack party at the end of a challenging school day.

A cheer of assent goes up before the kids turn their attention to snacks, friends, and paint. Yixing’ll have to keep a close watch on everyone just to make sure no sleeves end up stained, no hair ends up cut. Yet, for all the chaos in his classroom, his heart swells up with affection.

“Today, we’re going to be painting cards for spring!” He introduces, holding up the demo card he’d created. “I have stencils for rabbits and little chicks—you know where to find them—and I can help you fold your cards if you’re having trouble,” he continues, walking up the three rows of art tables and pointing out the supplies he’s set out for the class.

“We can also do cut-out cards by folding the paper in half and cutting out half of each shape we want. Then, when we unfold it,” he demonstrates with a heart, “there’s a whole shape in the middle.” The kids know this for the most part, but he doesn’t want to pressure them into beginning immediately—they should have a few minutes to relax and chat with their friends after a grueling (for them) day in their other classes.

Jieun’s the first to raise her hand, “Can we use glitter?”

“You can use glitter glue or the glitter-paper scraps we have,” he says kindly, “but no loose glitter. Not after last time!”

The class laughs at the reminder, and that’s when the class really begins. They ball up their napkins and trash them, then get to work on the cards, leaving Yixing to flit around the room helping where help is needed, or simply talking to the kids and inviting a comfortable banter between them.

After the chaos of starting, he gets to take a quick breather (until the next catastrophe),and so, he glances at his phone momentarily. A string of text notifications sit on the face of the screen, and, at the top of it all, a notification from his doctor that his test results have come back and to give them a call.

He ignores the doctor for a moment—doesn’t want to ruin his day and then, in turn, have that dour mood rub off on the kids—and opens the other texts. They’re from Jongdae.

> **dae** : will u come out to dinner tonight?? min and i want to treat u for babysitting!!
> 
> **dae** : u must be in class, im going to make plans if u need to cancel just tell me
> 
> **dae** : if ur on board tho, the reservations r for 7, we r going to go to the place kyungsoo works

Yixing snorts under his breath. Trust Jongdae to simply jump into things. He’s free, for sure, and even if the news from the doctor ends up bad, Yixing’s fairly confident he can sweep it under the rug long enough to enjoy a dinner with his friends.

“Mr. Zhang?” A voice calls out.

He looks up, locking his phone instantly. “What’s up?” And hurries to help his student with their dilemma. Later, when the bell rings and he’s packing his bags, he shoots Jongdae a text to confirm he’s good for their dinner date. Then, he’s pocketing his phone and leaving.

***

Admittedly, he may have misjudged the effect the call with his doctor was going to have on him. Though, he’s realizing this a little too late seeing as he’s already sat down at a moderately fancy restaurant with husbands Jongdae and Minseok sat across from him. And, as is typical with people who have been friends for a decade, they both notice quite immediately that something’s up.

“Are you okay?” Jongdae asks eventually, after they’ve ordered. He sets his wine back down on the table, sharp gaze following the nervous tap of Yixing’s fingers to the quiet frown he’s unconsciously been wearing on his face.

Yixing glances up from the tablecloth, “Hm? What makes you think I’m not?”

Both of them raise a brow, but it’s Minseok who leans back in his seat and crosses his arms, looking more patronizing than he really should. “You’ve been staring at the table and humming along to whatever Jongdae says.” He jerks his head in Jongdae’s direction, “you and I _both_ know you two can’t go that long without _some_ disagreement. You clearly haven’t been paying attention,” he says. 

Yixing cracks a grin. Minseok’s right—he tends to be—but he doesn’t want to put a damper on the night. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” he says simply, smoothing his hands down his pants before he reaches out to lift his glass to his lips. Jongdae traces the movement, unconvinced.

“Well, why don’t we talk about it. Minseok and I are full of wisdom and experience,” Jongdae says, resting his chin on his hand and leaning forward.

Yixing casts him a _look_ then straightens up. “I just got some news from my doctor that changes some of my plans,” he says, keeping his tone level and unassuming.

Minseok cocks his head, “I didn’t know you were seeing a doctor about something? Are you okay?” He echoes Jongdae’s earlier sentiment.

Yixing rubs the back of his neck knowing it’s going to be harder to skirt now, especially since he’s not got any excuses lined up. Plus, he’s an awful liar. Jongdae’d suss him out in an instant. “I’ve had some breathing problems lately, tight chest, whistling breath. You know,” he pauses, “wanted to go get it checked out just in case it was something that needed treatment.”

“And?” the pair asks, eyes wide, concerned.

“Uh, well they ordered a chest CT scan. I was pretty sure it was going to be my lungs if anything since I used to paint in that little apartment-”

“I remember it,” Jongdae interrupts.

Yixing nods and continues, “but they wanted to be able to rule out a heart condition as well. Got the diagnosis today. It was suspected COPD, but I’d also done some arterial blood oxygen tests, and combined with that the doc’s pretty much certain.”

“What does this mean? Is it from the painting fumes?” Jongdae asks, blinking. Minseok looks similarly worried.

He shrugs, “I mean, I’ve lived in some sketchy places where the air quality’s been bad and what not, but it’s not a huge jump to assume it was the paint thinners,” he explains. “They said I’ve got it pretty bad and are recommending a few things for me to manage the symptoms, but my risk of infection’s pretty high considering my lifestyle.”

Minseok tuts his tongue, “That sounds bad. Are you going to take sick leave?”

“Well, I was thinking I was going to complete this year. I mean, we only have like three months left anyways, but I think I’ll discuss with admin to see if I can resign. We’re on two year contracts and I technically have another year, but,” he trails off. “I don’t want to get sick and then have the kids worry about me, you know?”

Jongdae nods emphatically, “I can’t believe I made you come out tonight. I hope it’s not too much all at once?”

“It’s not,” Yixing says immediately, holding up his hands placatingly. “Actually, now that I’ve told someone, I think I’m feeling a little better about it. I mean, I expected it, but it was a little surprising. I think all bad news is, I guess?”

Minseok hums, “I get it. If you need any help, do let us know. You know we’re more than happy to do what we can.”

“I do,” Yixing says, grinning. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders, even if the knowledge of his diagnosis definitely sits in the back of his mind, ever present. “I mean, this is the first day. Maybe the meds will help,” he says, “I’m really not worried right now. Just want to be prepared.”

“That’s fair,” Jongdae says.

“Anyways, who’s watching Iseul tonight? Chanyeol and his girlfriend, or?”

Jongdae and Minseok both breathe out a sigh of relief to be onto easier topics. Not that Yixing blames them. He’s not sure they knew what they were getting into when they started pressing for answers. “Yeah, Chanyeol and she are taking them out to the arcade and the movies. We’re going to go pick them up after this.”

“They’re still going strong?”

“Yep,” Jongdae pops the ‘p.’

“And Kyungsoo, he’s here tonight, right?” Yixing asks, craning around to find the kitchen doors. As he looks, he spots their waitress and food on its way towards them. He points it out and they quickly clear a place for the plates.

Minseok smooths his napkin over his lap before answering, “He’s _supposed_ to be here tonight, but who knows if he’ll come out to say ‘hello’ or anything. We texted him, anywho, so if he _is_ feeling up for the social interaction, he’ll come out and see us.” Minseok makes a pointed face at that, as though he doesn’t expect much, but would very much like for Kyungsoo to come out without their having to harass him to do so.

Their food is set down. It’s divine.

“Did you end up finishing that big commission you had?” Jongdae asks a few minutes later, after they’d all lapsed into a silence in order to eat.

Yixing looks up, swallowing. “I did! Client loved it. And then, my regular came in and bought a few more paintings—including one of the ones I was just working on in my off time. I still have to finish it.”

“Must have a lot of trust in you to buy a painting that isn’t even finished,” Minseok comments.

“Yes, well, I’m fairly sure he’s rich enough not to care, even if it did turn out to suck. But he comes in often, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did trust my skill at this point.”

“It’s only to be expected,” Jongdae agrees.

Yixing hums, “You’ll have to meet him one day. You two would get a kick out of him,” he says, twirling noodles around his fork.

“Oh?” They say in unison.

Yixing nods, eyes sparkling, “He reminds me of the type of people in impressionist paintings. Wears a lot of pretty pastels, walks around with a parasol, has a cute, if a little ugly, toy poodle. He’s sweet though. I like his company.”

Jongdae hones in on his last comment, “Gotta crush or something?” He asks, wiggling his brow.

Yixing laughs, covering his mouth before he can spit over the food. Minseok’s lip curls, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “No, I wouldn’t call it a crush,” Yixing finally says, though a pale blush still paints his cheeks. “Maybe a friendship crush—like I’d want to hang out with him in the park or something, but I don’t think I’m interested in him romantically or anything.”

Minseok rolls his eyes, “You’re _never_ interested in anyone like that. I’m beginning to think you’re just a commitment-phobe.”

Yixing shakes his head even as Jongdae points and agrees. “I’m really not,” he whines, eyes still sparkling with mirth, “No one’s interesting enough for me. At least, right now. Maybe someone’ll come along.”

“Well, if not your eccentric regular, I can always get you a date with Han-”

“I’ve met him and while he’s very nice, he’s not my type,” Yixing says kindly, shooting down the option before it’s even fully on the table.

And though Jongdae looks ready to argue, it’s at this moment that Kyungsoo appears—unprompted—from the kitchen. His uniform’s nice and pristine, and though he looks a touch frazzled, his heart-shaped smile is genuine and welcoming. “I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” he greets Yixing, laying a friendly hand on his shoulder.

Jongdae gasps in mock offense, “No greeting for us?!”

Kyungsoo ignores them, “How’ve you been?”

“Well,” Yixing says immediately smiling. “School’s been going well and I’m selling my paintings more regularly now,” he explains.

“That’s good,” Kyungsoo says, patting his shoulder before turning to greet Minseok and Jongdae. “I’m glad you two dragged him out of his shell.”

“As if you’re any better,” Yixing mumbles pointedly. Minseok snorts, agreeing.

“Both of you work too hard. That’s why you never see one another,” he says, “but we weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to come treat him,” Minseok explains, relating that Yixing’s their go-to babysitter nowadays.

They chat for a few more minutes, and then Kyungsoo’s heading back to the kitchen to complete the rest of his dinner shift and Minseok’s accepting the check from the waitress. “This was a good dinner,” Yixing says immediately, “I’m glad you planned it,” he says genuinely, pulling Jongdae into a hug.

“We’re always trying to take care of you,” Jongdae says honestly, eyes sparkling affectionately. “And we’re going to keep doing that. Remember, if you need anything at all—any help at all—just give us a call. We’re here for you even if you just need someone to talk to,” he says, squeezing Yixing close one last time before he pulls away. Minseok pockets his wallet then hugs Yixing as well.

“Do you need us to drive you home?” He asks, dangling his keys in hand.

Yixing shakes his head, “I’m going to walk. It’s only like thirty minutes.”

Jongdae frowns.

“I promise, it’s fine. I like cutting through the park. It’s _inspiring_ ,” he says with a grin. “But thank you for offering. Have a safe drive home, okay? Tell Chanyeol I said ‘hi’.”

They part ways at the door, Jongdae and Minseok heading off to their car where it’s parked on the street and Yixing heading in the opposite direction, towards the city park. The dark isn’t particularly frightening—though it _can_ be—but like this, it’s just calming. Like a blanket that settles over the city and all its inhabitants. A deep sleep that permeates his world.

Leaves crunch under his shoes. The low thud of a car’s speakers rolls by, illuminating him in the headlights briefly before it’s gone again. The hiss of an opossum has him glancing to the bushes. A birdsong’s putting him back at ease.

It’s silent despite all of the noise. It’s just the sound of night. Of being.

Another car begins rolling past, but slows down just a few feet ahead of him, rolling down its passenger window, and waiting for him to catch up. When he glances inside, any anxiety that may have bubbled in his chest evaporates.

“You’re not normally out this late?” Kim Junmyeon comments.

“I’m pretty sure you aren’t either,” Yixing says easily, grinning. “Just out for a drive?”

Kim Junmyeon is his aforementioned regular. The type of person that must sit on a pile of old wealth but have little knowledge of what to do with it, so instead buys random, eccentric assortments of things. Collector cars, clothes, jewelry, and art. He’s ostentatious in an oddly comforting way.

“Something like that,” Junmyeon says, “Clearing my head, for the most part, I think,” he explains.

“I get that,” Yixing says immediately.

“What are you doing out here? I know it’s not too late, but you never know who’s around,” Junmyeon says, glancing in his mirrors warily.

Yixing shakes his head, “Just came back from a dinner. The walk home isn’t too bad, and I like walking through the park, so,” he trails off, “and I suppose I’m doing a bit of head clearing too.”

Junmyeon gives a little _‘ah’_ of acknowledgment, lapsing into silence. “Well then I suppose you wouldn’t bite should I offer you a ride?”

Yixing stews on it for a moment, then, “Actually, I’m sure a ride wouldn’t be so bad,” he says. The door’s unlocked immediately, so he opens it up and slides into the seat (after Junmyeon grabs the clutter off of it and tosses it in the back), kicking aside the trash that litters the floor. “You know where my studio is, I live above it,” he says.

Junmyeon nods, “Yep!” The car slides into motion. “You’ve been doing well?” He asks after a beat of comfortable silence.

“I have,” Yixing says. “I don’t get the same stress as the other teachers do around this time. Art and music are electives, and we don’t do final projects with the kids or anything. I just give them an ‘A’ to be proud of,” he explains. “So, I’ve had a lot of time to paint, as well.”

“That sounds nice,” Junmyeon says. “I never had art classes when I was growing up,” he explains, “but I like decorating my home. Baekhyun, too, loves what I bring home from your shop.”

Yixing’s never heard Junmyeon mention the name before. “Baekhyun?”

“My husband,” Junmyeon says easily, as though he already knows Yixing won’t pass any negative judgment on him. And well, it makes sense. Yixing would have guessed Junmyeon were a little queer, but hadn’t every jumped to a conclusion despite how coded Junmyeon’s closet might appear. “He doesn’t go out much, so the paintings bring a bit of the outside world in,” he explains.

“Ah,” Yixing says, his gaze still roving over the landscape outside. “I’m glad to be able to give that gift to him,” he continues, voice soft. “Is there a reason he doesn’t go out much?”

“He’s sun sensitive,” Junmyeon remarks. “I am too, but to a way lesser degree,” he amends, obviously taking a moment to explain why he always walks with a little sun-umbrella. “And he’s a homebody, so really it works out for him.”

Yixing hums, “Yeah, that sounds lucky for sure. I couldn’t imagine having to stay inside. I’d be missing out on too much.”

“That’s what I think,” Junmyeon agrees, “but he takes it well for the most part, so I let it be.”

Yixing nods and they lapse into silence again.

“But your paintings do help,” Junmyeon ends up saying, voice quiet, though his words come rather abruptly after the silence. “It’s why I keep coming back,” he continues, “that and how friendly you are.”

“It’s a pleasure to paint for you,” Yixing says easily. “And you’re good company too,” he says a beat later, grinning. “You should stop by more often, if only just to chat.”

Junmyeon laughs, they’re pulling up on the curb next to Yixing’s studio. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, “but beware, once you invite me in I’ll never leave!”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Yixing says, “the shop’s really too quiet most of the time.”

“Are you saying I’m loud?” Junmyeon asks.

“Certainly,” Yixing grins, “but it’s welcome.” He opens the car door and steps out, careful not to let any of the trash fall into the street. “Anyways, thank you for the ride, Junmyeon. It was much appreciated.”

They wave, and then Junmyeon pulls away from the curb. Yixing follows the red-haze of his tail-lights until he takes a turn and disappears from view. And even then, Yixing remains outside, simply standing there.

It takes a minute for him to snap out of it and turn around, taking the iron-wrought stairs up to the second story, where he lets himself in and quickly gets ready for bed.

He sleeps well, despite everything.

***

He gets contract negotiations done with ease. Administration hadn’t been pleased to receive his email originally, this he knows only because of the mood in the office when he arrived for his meeting. But, by the end of it, they’re understanding (which is a blessing, since such a feat’s rare for them).

He waits to break the news to his students though. At least, to the younger kids. His middle school kids getting ready to go onto high-school are the first to hear about it. And the reaction makes Yixing feel a bit better about himself, since the dynamic in the classroom doesn’t change for the worse, if anything, they seem to cherish class time a little more.

Today’s one of those days where he lets them work on whatever they’d like, with access to all of the supplies in the classroom. And in the meantime, he works on the class portrait they’re going to all sign at the end of the year.

“So, if you’re not coming back next year,” one of the kids—Mark—starts, “what are you going to do instead?”

Yixing pauses since he hasn’t really given it any thought. “I suppose I’ll work in my studio more often,” he says after a moment. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Another girl, Caroline, cocks her head, “Then you’re not going to a different school?”

“No, no,” Yixing says, “I’m just taking a little break from teaching to focus on my health,” he explains. “You guys take too much out of me,” he jokes, grinning at the argument that rises up from the class. It’s all good-natured, though.

“Can we stop by your studio then?” Someone asks.

“I suppose,” Yixing says noncommittally. “One of my aides, Yerim, teaches painting classes there if any of you are interested,” he tells them. “I’m sure if you took the class you’d see me from time to time.”

This causes a groan as the kids begin to argue about the logistics of visiting their favorite art teacher. Yixing lets them chat it out. It’s not that he wouldn’t welcome them, but he doesn’t want to encourage them to come find him. He _is_ rather fond of the peace he gets.

There’s a knock at the door minutes later. It swings open to reveal the principal and, to his shock, Junmyeon.

“Mr. Zhang? We were wondering if we could stop by for a moment and talk about what supplies you might be in need of to fill out your classroom a bit more? Mr. Kim is preparing a donation, but he’d like to see where the money’s going,” she explains.

Yixing grins, “Junmyeon and I have met before,” he says.

Junmyeon rubs the back of his neck, “I buy paintings from Mr. Zhang,” he explains to the principal. “I didn’t know this was where he taught though.”

Yixing gets up anyways, beckoning them inside the room. He gives a word to the kids, keep working, they’re free to chat so long as they’re mindful of their guest. “I’m happy to show you my classroom, anyways,” Yixing says, showing them the supplies he’s bought for the program over the years. Some of it comes from the school’s arts and education fund, most of it comes out of pocket.

And Yixing doesn’t mind for the most part, so long as he has extra funds, he’ll put them towards his passion—sharing art with others. It can be frustrating at times, but… he’s satisfied enough with it, that the pros outweigh the cons.

“If I was to think of any area I’m lacking, I’d say it’s with the supplies I have available for the younger kids. We do a lot of holiday based projects, and the whole period before Christmas and the new year really wipes me out. Especially since I have more students in the younger grades,” he explains, opening some of the drawers and containers that would normally be stocked to the brim, but are now sadly depleted. “So, I suppose just having these stocks replenished would be very helpful, and they can of course be passed on to the next art teacher.”

Junmyeon glances at him at that, but doesn’t ask about it. “I’m sure I can help with the supply slump,” he says, “is there anything more expensive the program might benefit from, do you think? Or a program that can be designed to incorporate your class?” Junmyeon asks, and then, more for the benefit of the principal, says, “my partner and I are very fond of the arts, so if we can fund a program or enhance what you already have beyond simply replenishing supplies, we’re willing to do so.”

Yixing chews the inside of his cheek. It’s not often his students get to benefit like this, and frankly, he doesn’t have all that many ideas. “I know the other two art teachers were considering a summer camp,” he says eventually, “But not all of our students can afford bringing a packed lunch every day, nor can they really pay for the expense of the camp.”

“If you can get us a list of what we need to fund to make that camp happen, we’d love to help with it. Lunches, supplies, school bus-rental for transport. Whatever’s needed,” Junmyeon says with ease.

The principal nods, she doesn’t look particularly pleased nor unhappy. Which is a bit on brand, but because Yixing knows in the end, the decision for whether or not the camp is viable is hers to make, it does worry him that he may have overstepped.

“Thank you, Mr. Zhang,” she says, “I’ll definitely discuss it with Mr. Kim and your coworkers to see if it’s an option. For now, we’ll put the classroom supplies on our list of needs, if that sounds good to you?”

“Yes, of course,” Yixing says quickly. “That’s more than I could ask for. Thank you so much for stopping by. It was very nice to see you, Junmyeon,” he says, guiding them back through the clutter and over to the set of old, double doors that lead into the room. He quickly prompts the class to wave and say good-bye, and then, Junmyeon and the principal are disappearing down the hall.

Some of the students immediately start talking about the proposed camp. “Do you think we’ll be able to volunteer as counselors? My high-school requires service hours, so any volunteering we do during the summer will count for our first year’s hours.”

“If there even is a camp,” Yixing says quickly, placating them for the time being. “It’s complicated to plan something like that, especially so late in the year. We might have to wait a while longer.”

This gets a few frowns, but, after a few minutes, it’s all forgotten and the class is back to their own conversations. And in the lull, all Yixing can think about are the butterflies in his chest every time Junmyeon shows up, much like a fairy, and makes his day that much better.

***

“I have to say, I didn’t expect to see you at the door,” Yixing says later, coming out of his painting room and into the main body of his shop. Junmyeon, who’s browsing the new printsand artbooks that have come in, looks up, lips quirking playfully.

“I didn’t expect to see you!” He says, flipping Yixing’s statement. “I knew you were a teacher, of course, but I thought you might have taught at one of the actual art centers. Which was dumb since I think you mentioned that your classes were only electives,” he pauses, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

Yixing sets down a box that Yerim will have to help him unpack. “Not dumb,” he admonishes kindly. “Sometimes we just make associations without them having any real merit.”

“Ah, I had plenty of merit behind that one. I figured a painter as good as you would work in a dedicated center. Merit based assumption,” Junmyeon corrects. He turns back to the prints, continuing to flip through them. It looks like he’s already chosen one of the strawberry paintings and a painting of the lake. Good choices, in Yixing’s humble opinion. “Your classroom was really nice, though,” he says, “it felt like you cared.”

“I’d hope,” Yixing says, turning back around and leaning against the pay-counter. “Don’t see why I’d teach if I didn’t care.”

“Then are you switching schools soon? I just remember you mentioning the next teacher could make use of the supplies left over. It stuck out to me.” He pauses, “I hope I’m not prying.”

“You aren’t. Much,” Yixing says, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m taking a break for a while to focus on my health. I’m probably going to spend it painting, working on the studio, and making sure the shop’s running accordingly. Teaching and lesson planning took up a lot of my time.”

“It’s always good to focus on health,” Junmyeon murmurs, putting the stack of prints back and moving on to browse the art reference books. “Maybe after your break you’ll feel more invigorated,” he says.

Yixing cants his head to the side, shifting on his feet. “Maybe,” he echoes. “Anyways, what brought you to the school? Like, I know you wanted to give some financial help, but, why that school?”

Junmyeon selects a book, flipping through it lazily, “Our neighbors kids go there,” he explains. “She’s one of the moms that probably helps out with a little bit of everything. She put us onto the idea of helping out, and Baekhyun and I can afford it, so why not?” He shrugs.

“It must be nice not having to think about things like that. What is it that you two do?” Yixing asks, somewhat brazenly. He’s not sure he’s ever heard Junmyeon talk about a job, and Baekhyun is as obscure as a myth, it seems.

“Hm? My family owns a shipping company. Baekhyun’s… invested well,” Junmyeon says distractedly. He puts the book down and then reaches out to grab one of the graphic novels on display, rearranging his grip to hold it as well as the two prints he’d picked out earlier. “And it is nice, more so when we get to spend it on gifts or use it to support our community,” he continues.

He sets the three items down on the counter, grinning up at Yixing, who blushes and walks round to start ringing Junmyeon up.

“I was actually thinking of ordering a commission too,” Junmyeon explains, “Baekhyun and I’s anniversary is coming up, and it sounds dumb and narcissistic, but, we’d really like to have a portrait painted of us.” He pauses, “the old fashioned way, if you’d be willing. I want an excuse to come hang out and chat—and also to get Baekhyun out of the house,” he explains.

Yixing hums, “How big were you thinking?”

“Twenty-four by thirty-six inch? Or is that too big? I promise we’re not full of ourselves. I mean—I might be, but it’s not a character flaw, just healthy confidence,” he says, tone joking, if a little teasing.

Yixing quirks a brow, “I think that’ll be fine. I’m not sure I know the cost up front. It really depends on how much material I end up using, but-“

“I can make a deposit and you can invoice me the rest at the end?” Junmyeon suggests.

He nods, “That’s what I was going to suggest. But, yeah, I’m totally willing to paint you guys. We’ll do oil then?”

Junmyeon confirms. Oil on canvas and he’ll bring Baekhyun by in a week or so for painting to start, sometime in the evening.

It all sounds well and good to Yixing, who’s happy to spend more time with Junmyeon, only, “Can I get your number?” Junmyeon looks up sharply before Yixing clarifies, “You know, to make sure we’re coordinating painting times. Since you want them to be live sessions and all.”

“Ah, yeah, of course,” Junmyeon says, and he takes Yixing’s offered phone, entering in his number and saving it. He shoots himself a quick text that way he has Yixing’s number as well. “There, so it’s a date?”

“It’s a date,” Yixing agrees, passing Junmyeon his shopping bag. “Thanks for stopping by, tell Baekhyun ‘hi’ for me,” he says, waving as Junmyeon leaves through the door, parasol perched on his shoulder.

***

Portrait day comes with a healthy dose of nerves. Yixing’s set up the studio for painting, and he’s created a set that’s nice and warm. Now, all that’s left is to wait for Baekhyun and Junmyeon. And, while he’s comfortable with Junmyeon by now (given all the times he’s been in the shop, and all the times he’s bumped into him _outside_ of it), Baekhyun is an enigma all-together. Yixing’s not sure if the nerves are excitement or anxiety. Not that he’s ever been bad with meeting new people. It can just be… awkward.

The door to the shop opens, so he calls out, directing them with his voice alone into the studio in the back of the shop.

Junmyeon sets down his keys, wallet, and sweater on the chair just inside the doorway, and immediately walks over to greet Yixing with a one-armed hug.

When he pulls back, Yixing’s gaze flits immediately to the stranger in the room.

Baekhyun is… a presence in the strangest of ways. Because, while he’s not off-putting, he _is_ intimidating. In a way that you can simply tell he’s confident in his own person, unflinching in his character. Appearance-wise is much the same. He’s quite pale compared to Junmyeon, and all of his features are just a touch sharper, a touch more angular. His style’s nice, but not flashy, with the gaudiest thing on his body being a gilded medallion that hangs against his chest.

When the two of them are put together, all Yixing can see is a contrast. Junmyeon, who is still pale, has warm tones to his skin. He wears light colors. He styles his perhaps chin-length hair into something cute and easy. He’s very relaxed. And while Baekhyun’s not _rigid_ per se, he’s… not loose. Not like Junmyeon is.

“Zhang Yixing,” he introduces himself, reaching forward to offer Baekhyun a hand.

“Byun Baekhyun,” he says, shaking Yixing’s once before he lets go. His palms are quite cold. “Junmyeon’s told me a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same about you, but Junmyeon’s been stingy,” Yixing replies.

And just like that, Baekhyun’s reservations seem to melt. He cracks a grin, his shoulders loosen up, and he walks over to stand next to his husband, hands wrapping around his waist affectionately. His eyes, though, they remain sharp, hyper-aware. Yixing would love to paint those eyes.

He’s glad to be painting them, on second thought, as he remembers _why_ the couple’s even here. “So, I created a set. I think it’ll be fairly close up anyways, but in case we had blank space, I wanted to have something concrete to fill it with. Does this work for you guys?”

He points at it. He’d gone with a lilac backdrop with a light floral pattern. The two will be sat on a loveseat. It’s all quite domestic and relaxed in Yixing’s humble opinion. And it seems that both Baekhyun and Junmyeon agree.

They situate themselves, picking a pose that’s comfortable. And once that’s decided, Yixing takes a photo, so he can work on the painting whenever they’re not in session. He trusts his set up and does not check the display for any previews.

At his canvas and easel, however, his nerves melt away and he finds he genuinely enjoys the live session. He’s obviously done them before, back when he’d practiced figure drawing and other gestures, but it’s been a while and he’s never had an experience where it’s just he and the clients. But the pressure rolls off his shoulder in a wave as Baekhyun and Junmyeon begin to chat, easily keeping any awkwardness at bay.

“So Yixing, how long have you been painting?” Baekhyun asks, rolling a crick out of his neck before resuming his pose. His voice is like velvet. Yixing almost misses the question.

“I started with music, actually,” he explains, glancing between the models and the canvas. “Which I’ve practiced since I was a kid, and then I picked up drawing and painting when I was turning… thirteen maybe? So about twenty years, now, I suppose.”

“Long time,” Junmyeon says. The sentiment isn’t echoed by Baekhyun.

“And music? Did you stop it, or?”

“I teach some of the music classes over at the school and I practice songwriting in my downtime, but I don’t perform or anything anymore.”

“You used to?” Junmyeon asks, blinking.

Yixing laughs, “I’d busk from time to time. Sometimes I’d ask to play the piano at a bar or something, but nothing I ever got booked for, you know?” He sighs, reminiscing. “I try not to commodify all of my hobbies. This type of art, painting and whatnot, was easier for me to complete on an order than music would ever be. So, I support myself with this and teaching, and leave the music as a little escape—if that makes sense?”

Baekhyun hums in agreement, “It makes perfect sense.” He pauses, and then, “I ask just because Junmyeon and I both enjoy singing, and I play the piano. It’s nice when you meet other people who play,” he explains. His hands are quite fine, he’d say they were a musician’s hands or a painter’s hands, and well, he’s clearly gotten his answer now.

“I can imagine you both sing. Your voices are really nice,” Yixing compliments. “Junmyeon has a really romantic-sort of voice-color. And yours is so rich as well.”

Junmyeon blushes.

Baekhyun does not, even if a smile graces his face.

By the time Yixing starts sketching their faces, careful to catch the minute details now so that he doesn’t have to correct them later, they’ve all lapsed into a quiet, comforting silence. The only sound in the room is that of Yixing’s pencil and his occasional puffs of breath–sighs when he gets a line wrong, or perfectly right, the occasional cough that he passes off as allergies.

Drawing their faces gives him permission to stare, and in doing so he finds that, though Baekhyun may seem sharp to him—he’s like clay around Junmyeon, forever molding himself to suit the other man. Right now, his face is soft. While Junmyeon looks directly at Yixing—obviously hoping to get a portrait much like would have been painted back before photographs—Baekhyun’s head’s tilted ever so slightly, his gaze focused on Junmyeon, as though it is Junmyeon who holds all of his attention, who commands his presence.

And he could ask Baekhyun to look forward, that way the painting would have some uniformity, but he’s fond of the softness it brings to Baekhyun’s face. He’s almost assured that both Junmyeon and Baekhyun will appreciate a portrait that conveys the affection they have for one another more than anything else.

Junmyeon’s expression is just as captivating, because, though focused, it’s not rigid. If anything, it’s excited. There’s a glow to his cheeks, a glimmer in his eyes—simply a liveliness to his face. Something Yixing’s always glad to be the cause of.

He moves on from their faces later, relaxing somewhat as he starts adding simple details. “You guys can talk now,” he says, “I’m mostly done with the sketch. We can take a break and next session, I’ll continue with painting,” he explains.

Baekhyun immediately relaxes, leaning his head on Junmyeon’s shoulder. He remains diligently still apart from that, waiting for Yixing to give them the final all-clear.

When he does, Junmyeon’s the first to stand, immediately rounding the easel to take a look at the canvas and Yixing’s sketch. “Oh wow,” he breathes, tracing the line of his face with his hand. Yixing could admonish him, there’s oil on his hands that can smudge the lines, but he doesn’t. “Baekhyunnie, come see,” he prompts.

But Baekhyun shakes his head, “I’m going to wait for the final piece. Call it a surprise,” he says, standing up. He pops his spine, stretching comfortably after an hour or more of sitting relatively still for Yixing.

Junmyeon’s stuck on the sketch still. “Really, this is going to be beautiful. How can I ever repay you?” he murmurs.

Yixing smiles, brain instantly flitting to the dull anxiety that never _quite_ surfaces in full. “Could give me a few more years,” he jokes quietly enough that Junmyeon—hyper-focused on the painting—doesn’t hear him.

Baekhyun, though, looks up, gaze meeting Yixing’s as though _he_ had heard—which is frankly impossible. Regardless, he doesn’t ask, instead looking at his wrist and checking the time on his watch. “It’s late,” he remarks.

“We’ve not even had dinner,” Junmyeon says, patting his tummy as he finally steps back from the sketch. He looks back at Yixing. “Do you want to come catch some with us? City Diner’s open right now, Morning Call, too.”

Baekhyun begins listing off other restaurants that are also open around this time. Which, once Yixing looks at his phone, is admittedly much later than he’d intended to keep them. But Junmyeon and Baekhyun hadn’t expressed any fatigue, and Yixing had been focused, so he’s not at all sorry about it.

“City Diner sounds good,” he says in agreement, putting up the canvas, easel, camera, tripod, and lights. He leaves the set as is, otherwise. Then, he’s grabbing a sweater of his own (a cold front’s come in) and handing Junmyeon the one he’d cast over the chair.

“We’ll drive, then,” Junmyeon says, “not worth wasting gas when we’re both coming back to the same area, right?”

Yixing nods, following them out of the door. He pauses momentarily to lock the shop door, and then, he’s walking down the pavement and slipping into the backseat of the car humming on the curb.

The floors and seats are pristine this time, and the car has a distinctly nice scent. It’s obviously treated far better than Junmyeon’s well-loved, but absolutely trashed set of wheels.

Baekhyun puts the car into drive, and that’s when Yixing learns he’s also a better driver than Junmyeon—even if he drives a tad on the fast side, and definitely doesn’t keep his hands at nine and three. His music taste is also more the standard pop and r&b you might find on the radio, unlike the music from Junmyeon’s carefully curated alt-rock playlists.

“So, how did you two meet?” He asks when they’re all sat down at the diner, the only group apart from a troupe of theatre kids making a ruckus in the seating near the doors.

Baekhyun’s eyes flick from the noise over to Yixing. He hums, “We met in a graveyard,” he says with a grin. Junmyeon smacks his arm.

“We did not,” Junmyeon says, “we met _outside_ of one. I caught Baekhyun mid-fall from the wall surrounding one.”

Baekhyun shrugs, “I lost my footing,” as if this is all the explanation he needs to give.

“Why were you in a graveyard?” Yixing asks, raising a brow.

“Well I went in to try and catch a stray cat, but it was unexpectedly fast. And then Junmyeon caught me leaving.”

“I caught him,” Junmyeon says, grinning.

“He did not.”

Their food arrives, interrupting any further interrogation. Baekhyun’s the one to eventually continue, “Either way, it was not a good, first impression. But, Junmyeon has this thing where, if you run into him once, you can’t get away from him.”

That’s familiar. Yixing’s experienced it with him. “And you’re not like that?”

“No, I don’t go out enough to meet people.”

“He has friends,” Junmyeon says, “He’s not a hermit. He can’t be, if he’s married to me.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, pushing his food around with his fork. Yixing’s not sure he’s even seen him take a bite yet. “Not hungry?” He asks, forking a cut of pancake into his mouth. Junmyeon glances over as well, eyes wide.

“Hm? Not particularly, but Junmyeon can eat enough for the both of us,” he brushes off. “Has to replenish all the energy he loses working out.”

“I _do_ look good, though,” Junmyeon jokes, immediately changing topics. He flexes, to Yixing’s amusement.

Then, he reaches over the table and squeezes Yixing’s arm, raising a brow, “And look, you _definitely_ work out too.” He pulls his hand away. Yixing resolutely ignores the butterflies that had erupted. His husband’s right there.

He feels exposed. Junmyeon seems to be oblivious of Yixing’s growing crush (though he’d told Jongdae it wasn’t the case), but Baekhyun seems to see it as clear as the day, quirking a lip and arching a brow. But his expression’s not mean. If anything, it’s curious.

“Stop harassing him,” Baekhyun admonishes lightly. Junmyeon instantly argues—he wasn’t _harassing_ him—and Yixing ducks his head down to hide his blush.

When he looks back up, they’ve quieted down. Baekhyun leans against the window sill, his attention outside the restaurant. Junmyeon, though, is gazing right at him—warm, friendly, kind. “I hope we’re not too much,” he says.

“Not at all,” Yixing says. “You’re both very good company. You’d get along with my friends.”

“High praise,” Baekhyun says. “He’d introduce us to his friends, Myeonnie.”

Junmyeon’s eyes sparkle. “You should,” he invites. “We’d love to meet them.”

Baekhyun’s expression says something like he thinks Junmyeon’s way too overbearing, but he doesn’t audibly disagree. He has an easy-going sort of vibe, as though, what Junmyeon agrees to do, he’ll go along with—regardless of his own feelings.

“Maybe we’ll have a sip and paint one day,” Yixing muses.

“Or karaoke,” Junmyeon suggests.

“Both sound lovely,” Baekhyun says. Yixing has to agree, he’d enjoy both scenes.

So, when he finally arrives back home, Baekhyun and Junmyeon disappearing down the street, they’ve already made another date to hang out all-together.

***

“Jongdae thinks you’re dating someone,” Chanyeol mentions, setting his guitar to the side and reaching over to grab that bag of chips and salsa Yixing had commandeered. “Is that true?”

“I’m not,” Yixing says, laughing. “I’m just making new friends. Even if I _was_ interested, though, he’s already married.”

Chanyeol raises a brow at that, and pops a chip and dip into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Well, _technically_ , that doesn’t necessarily stop you. I mean—maybe they’d consider an open relationship. Is he gay?”

“You know as well as I do that the vast majority of people have opinions on non-monogamy that I’d rather not get into,” Yixing says, even though he himself is not opposed to the idea. So long as there’s communication, trust, and a willingness to adapt—polyamory is a perfectly viable relationship model. “But, to answer your question, he is.”

“What’s he like?”

“Hot and rich,” Yixing jokes, “no, I mean, Junmyeon’s friendly, makes bad jokes, but is endearing and really… bright? To be around? Like, there’s never a dull moment.”

Chanyeol cocks his head, “He sounds nice, and I think I might believe Jongdae.”

Yixing sighs, “It’s really not… anything. Even if I do have a crush, I’m not going to pursue anything.” It sounds so juvenile to be talking about crushes like he’s one of his students. But, that _is_ what it’s beginning to become—isn’t it? “Like I’m perfectly happy being friends with him, and I’m sure I’ll get over it at some point.”

“Yeah, sure,” Chanyeol agrees. “Have you met the husband, then?”

“Hm? Yeah,” Yixing says almost distractedly, still hung up on the fact that he has a crush on Junmyeon of all people. “Equally hot, but I don’t know much about him. He’ll talk and all but he doesn’t share much? If that makes sense. I don’t really have a read on him other than that Junmyeon’s definitely his entire world.”

“That’s cute,” Chanyeol says. “I mean, at least y’all share plenty in common.”

“What’s that?”

“Being hopelessly in love with Junmyeon.”

Yixing smacks him, rolling his eyes. “I’m not in love,” he argues again, this time standing up to go fix himself a glass of water. “I literally just explained that even if it’s a crush nothing’s going to come of it.”

Chanyeol obviously disagrees, continuing to tease in a singsong voice.

Yixing’s phone goes off—the text notification lighting up the screen. Chanyeol grabs for it, and because he can, uses his fingerprint to unlock the phone and pull the texts up for him to read. “Kim Junmyeon, just now: ‘Hey, I’m going to be out of town for the next week visiting family. If I gave you Baekhyun’s number would you make sure he leaves the house?’ Is Baekhyun the husband?”

“Yes, Baekhyun’s the husband,” Yixing says, walking back over to the couch and plucking his phone from Yixing’s hand. He types back a quick response—he can definitely drag Baekhyun out at least _one_ night (which, knowing how little he does go out, is probably as good as it’s going to get). “Maybe I can get Jongdae and Minseok and we can have a dinner? Something loose and easy. I just think it’d be good to have a buffer.”

“Could just go out to the park or a café or something,” Chanyeol says. “Why does it need to be a dinner?”

“Baekhyun doesn’t go out during the day. He’s sun sensitive,” Yixing relates back, giving it little thought; it’s become something of a familiar fact to him now that they’ve had a few evening painting sessions under their belt.

“Sounds like something a vampire would say,” Chanyeol mutters.

“He doesn’t have fangs,” Yixing continues off-handedly, locking his phone again and tossing it to the side. “And he’s too hip. If anyone’s the vampire, it’d be Junmyeon—he makes it work and all, but his tastes are definitely a little dated.”

“Sure, sure, now did you want to show me that new song you’ve been working on?” Chanyeol says, moving on to topics other than Yixing’s love life, or lack thereof. Yixing’s glad for the distraction, picking up a notebook, and showing Chanyeol what he’d come up with.

This continues for another couple of hours before Chanyeol’s heading out and Yixing’s glancing back down at his phone again. A couple of texts await.

> **kim junmyeon:** here’s his number! [attached contact]
> 
> **kim junmyeon:** thank u, i owe u one!!

Yixing adds Baekhyun’s contact and shoots him a text letting him know where he’d gotten his number from (though he’s sure Baekhyun’s smart enough to figure it out) and that Junmyeon wants him to get out of the house at some point—so if there’s a date good for a dinner, or to head to a bar, to let him know.

And before he lies down for a late, afternoon nap, he’s receiving a text back.

> **byunbaek** : any day is good,, just lmk when and ill b there

Yixing goes to sleep.

***

A week later sees Junmyeon out of the country. He and Baekhyun have yet to make any plans together, but they text often enough that Yixing feels like Baekhyun’s still getting _some_ social interaction—and therefore Junmyeon shouldn’t be _too_ worried. Unlike Junmyeon, who prefers to talk about himself or ask about Yixing, Baekhyun chats about inane pop culture references and what movies Yixing should most definitely check out on Netflix.

Chatting with him is, in other words, easier, if only because Yixing doesn’t ever feel like they hedge on flirting. Baekhyun can _tease_ , sure, but he doesn’t ever cross the line into dangerous territory. And, considering Junmyeon always sits on the blurred line between intentional flirting and being absolutely oblivious of how his tone comes across—it’s nice to be able to take Baekhyun’s texts at face value and nothing more.

This is all, of course, in mind, as Yixing’s hand hovers over the ‘send’ arrow on the latest text he’d written. It’s an invitation for Baekhyun to come out and catch a drink with him since it’s Friday and he’s not got any classes tomorrow. But, he hesitates.

Hanging out with Junmyeon is easy because even when Yixing feels out of his element, Junmyeon makes up the difference. He accommodates and adapts and draws Yixing out of his shell.

Baekhyun, as far as Yixing’s experienced so far, _puts_ Yixing out of his element—though he’s not sure if that’s just because Baekhyun knows of Yixing’s obvious crush on his husband, or Baekhyun himself.

And Yixing _wants_ to invite him out, he really does, but he’s nervous.

He hedges for a moment more before deleting the unsent text and pocketing his phone again.

He regrets the choice later, when it’s dark and he’s sat at a sticky bar surrounded by strangers. It feels empty, and Yixing really would prefer to have company—any company—with him. It just makes the experience more… lively.

So, he ends up leaving early, after only a drink or two, and simply _walks_. It’s probably not the best, to be walking alone in the middle of the city, at night, but it’s what he does. There’s just enough people around that he feels safe… enough. As in, if he gets mugged, there’ll at least be witnesses.

And, for a while, he doesn’t particularly look around, doesn’t have any place to go in mind. He’s simply walking. Enjoying the colder, but certainly welcome, April weather.

Until he sees Baekhyun. Which is a shock in and of itself. Because according to Junmyeon—Baekhyun _never_ gets out of the house if he can help it. And yet, here he is, walking through the Quarter, dressed in silk and leather, with make-up on his eyelids and gold jewelry glinting around his neck and fingers.

As Yixing watches, he turns down an alley and disappears.

It’s only right that Yixing follows, curiosity compelling him forwards.

Inside the alley, there’s nothing but a singular, black door leading into an old, brick building. Just outside of it, Yixing can hear the soft thump of music from inside, the low chatter of people. It must be a bar—though what kind of bar has such a hidden entrance is beyond him.

He clears his throat of all the scratchiness that hangs inside, then tries the door.

It opens.

He slips inside without another question as to _what_ he’s even going to do should he confront Baekhyun inside, if he’s even inside. It’s not like Yixing saw him walk in.

He beelines for the bar, hoping it’ll give him some sort of vantage point without immediately giving him away. There, he sits close to the wall, between a man and woman, both of whom glance at him before returning to their own conversations.

The bartender swings over and Yixing’s mouth goes dry. He’s attractive. Modelesque, if Yixing’s being completely honest. But the shaggy, boyish hair, and the soft, sweet eyes offset the angles of his face and make him approachable, even shy looking.

He leans over, ear turned towards Yixing so that he can order a drink. He just orders a club soda and passes over the cash once it’s been delivered.

Then, his attention’s on the room, eyes searching it for any trace of Baekhyun, but there is none, at least not in this room. He can see a low red glow from another neighboring room, so Baekhyun might be in there. But Yixing’s not about to explore. Not when he’s never been inside this place. Not when he’s literally chasing some guy for no reason other than to be up in his business.

“What’s someone like _you_ doing at a place like this?” Comes a voice from his side. He swings his head around to get a good look at them. Like the bartender, they’re tall and exceptionally pretty. Unlike the bartender, their features stay sharp, even if the guy looks young in Yixing’s opinion.

“A place like this?” Yixing echoes, arching a brow. He taps his glass, “having a drink.”

The stranger cocks his head, but doesn’t comment, instead sliding into the recently vacated seat beside Yixing. “I’m Sehun,” he says, getting straight to the point. “Is this your first time here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“Do you come here often?” Yixing finds himself asking.

“Yeah,” Sehun says, without any shame. Yixing’s eyes narrow, but Sehun doesn’t seem to have had anything to drink.

He shrugs, “I’ve never been here, no. But… a friend recommended it, so I’m giving it a try.”

“A friend?” Sehun asks. “What’s their name?”

Yixing pauses, “Kim Jongdae? You probably don’t know him?” He lies, not wanting to say Baekhyun’s name in case Sehun _does_ indeed know him—and then wants to bring Yixing _to_ him.

Sehun frowns, “I don’t.” He pauses, lapsing into silence. It’s obvious Yixing’s not really interested, but Sehun seems persistent enough. Curious to see if he can make things work. To see if he can change Yixing’s mind. “Anyways, you never told me your name?” He coaxes.

Yixing has half a mind to lie again, but he’s not sure what he would gain—and if he does end up seeing Baekhyun, it’ll be awkward if he gets caught doing so right in front of Sehun. “Yixing,” he tells him.

“Pretty name,” Sehun says, “for a pretty face.”

There’s a shift, much like going underwater, and Yixing stops worrying. His inhibitions roll off him like smoke, and he’s left beside Sehun feeling as though he’s floating. Sehun continues to talk, and Yixing’s even answering him, but… it’s not registering. In the back of his mind, there’s that pulse of anxiety, but it’s put down—squanched under the dull euphoria that’s fogging up his head.

Sehun picks up his hand, kissing the top of his palm. His eyes sparkle, giving him some of the cute innocence Yixing had thought might rest under his sharp exterior. And then, he’s turning Yixing’s hand over and pressing his mouth to his wrist.

It’s bliss. The anxiety disappears at once. All of Yixing’s thoughts grind to a halt.

And then, it’s back in full force, like a tsunami. It crushes the euphoric feeling and throws Yixing back into the present. But it’s not… _his_ panic. It’s someone else's.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” A snarl. Sehun’s being shoved back roughly, but something in the motion belies restraint. That voice is familiar too. “He’s nescient,” the voice continues, concern evident throughout his tone. “He’s not even supposed to be here.”

A strong hand’s then wrapping itself around his bicep and pulling him up to his feet, walking him away from Sehun, and out of the front entrance. The cold air in the alley seems to snap him back to himself.

“What the _fuck_?” He murmurs, because _now_ it’s all clear. Like the fog has receded and now he’s actually thinking about what just happened. He instantly pulls his wrist up to his face, eyes zeroing in on the rapidly healing pricks from Sehun’s teeth. He gasps and turns.

Baekhyun looks wholly unprepared for this sort of situation. With lips as red as blood himself, eyes _far_ too black, and skin still remarkably pale, it all starts to make sense.

“Holy shit, Chanyeol was right,” he whispers. Before he can continue that thought, his head is pounding. A searing ache that starts at the base of his neck and throbs up the sides, and settles at his temples. The sort of migraine that debilitates, instead of a headache that can be ignored.

Baekhyun’s hands wrap around him again. “It’s because I forced his allure off of you,” Baekhyun murmurs, not quite explaining what that even means. “It’s going to get worse. I’m sorry,” and as he says it, Yixing hisses, vision blacking out for a moment. He misses the voices. Baekhyun leaving him sitting outside and going back inside to find Sehun, Sehun then driving them to what must be Baekhyun’s house.

Misses it all as his vision runs black and he passes out in full.

***

When he comes to, it’s to the image of Baekhyun sitting in a plush armchair opposite his place on the couch, asleep with his head resting on his arms. But only seconds after Yixing’s coming to, he’s looking up, black eyes blinking open and zeroing right in on Yixing.

“Are you going to tell me how you ended up at _the_ _Howl_?” Baekhyun asks, remaining leaned up against the arm of the chair, his legs cradled to his chest. He looks innocent. Sweet.

Yixing remembers the snarl in the bar.

He didn’t know the name of the place, but he can make the connection. “Saw you go in. Junmyeon says you never go out. I got worried.”

“Worried about what?” Baekhyun presses, eyebrows knit.

Yixing shrugs, “Thought maybe you were meeting someone that wasn’t him.”

Baekhyun pauses. “I _was_ going to meet someone that wasn’t him. I had to drink.” And then,he’s taking the familiar gold medallion that always hangs around his neck, and pulling it off.

He lets his jaw fall open. Apart from his middle two incisors on the top and bottom of his mouth, the remainder of his teeth vary in sharpness and curve, with the largest of the fangs being his canines. Not the typical fangs that Yixing’s used to seeing. But teeth meant for ripping and tearing.

“Junmyeon already knows about it. When he’s here, it’s not a problem. I just drink from him. When he’s not… I need to go get blood.”

“You can’t wait?” Yixing says, which honestly not the first question he ought to be asking.

Baekhyun frowns, “No.” But he doesn’t elaborate.

Yixing figures that now’s the time to start getting a picture of whatever had happened, and where he goes from here. He’s pretty certain Baekhyun’s not going to kill him—blood-thirsty demon or not—based solely on the fact that Baekhyun had interrupted… Sehun, was it?

“What happened?”

“ _The Howl_ is a supernatural bar and a blood den. Humans that come inside are typically always… awake—I suppose? It means they know about the supernatural world,” Baekhyun explains, “Humans that are awake tend to have an immunity to the Gogwihan’s allure, so when Sehun displayed interest, he simply thought you were returning it. He didn’t realize his allure was affecting you. Basically, he fed off of you without your consent—which is… illegal.”

“What’s a Gogwihan?” He recognizes that it’s a Korean word, just doesn’t know the meaning.

“He’s noble. Pureblooded. A born vampire,” Baekhyun says. “Junmyeon is also a Gogwihan. They’re pretty much humans apart from the occasional blood drinking, the sun sensitivity, and the allure.”

“Are you not?” Yixing asks, leaving the revelation about Junmyeon for later.

Baekhyun cracks a grin, his teeth visible yet again. “I’m Sal-inja. Also pureblooded, but my incarnation was different. The magic’s farther removed from humans. I’m more like the folklore,” he says.

“That’s…” Yixing pauses, searching for the right word to say. “Okay, so a vampire drank my blood. What do I do?”

“You rest, for the most part. The first bite is going to give you really vivid, sometimes terrifying dreams for at least the first couple of days since the bite. Your body isn’t used to the magic, it’s trying to reject it, but it can’t,” Baekhyun says. “You’re not going to get the full effect because I interrupted, but my interruption is going to make it a little more painful for the first few hours. Sehun’s panic seeped over to you, if that makes sense?”

He pauses to let all the information sink in. “I know I’m sort of uprooting your worldview, but you’re safe here. Just rest, by the time Monday comes around, you should be able to go in to work. Right now I’m just worried your body might have another reaction, and it can be helpful to have someone who knows what’s up, around.”

“Junmyeon’s coming back tomorrow, he got worried so he’s cutting his trip short.”

“That’s not necessary,” Yixing says, “I think I’m fine. I’m just… processing things.”

Baekhyun nods. “I know. If your head starts feeling better, feel free to watch some movies. The remotes on the table next to you.”

And then, he’s leaving the room. Yixing’s out again only minutes later, the pulse of his headache returning.

***

Waking up the second time is infinitely more disorienting than the first had been. It’s probably the fact that he’s alone this time that makes it all the more confusing. Because the couch is not his couch. This room is not his room. This house is not his house.

It’s Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun’s and Junmyeon’s.

It takes only a few beats for him to remember, but even then, he feels awkward, out of place. He glances at his arm. There’s no evidence of Sehun’s bite. He stands up, kicking off a thin-thread blanket and casting it over the back of the couch.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun may not look like vampires, at least, as Yixing had expected, but their house certainly fits the stereotypes. Gaudy furniture, with red and black velvet seats and fabric, dark mahogany frames, heavy black curtains that block out the sun, random assortments of old, vintage materials. It’s almost comical how contrasted the place is to Yixing’s perception of both vampires.

He looks around. He must be in the lounge. There’s an old, spiral staircase in one corner of the house, leading up into the unknown. There’s also a short hall, with a number of closed doors lining it, and a door to what might be the kitchen.

He goes for the kitchen. Opens the door and pauses in the doorway, lips parting in shock.

Baekhyun looks over. “Sehun wanted to come and apologize,” he says carefully, gesturing to the tall vampire. He sits nervously, hands wringing themselves in his lap. “He’s very… concerned.”

Yixing cocks his head. “It was a mistake,” he finally settles on. “Baekhyun told me you didn’t mean it, and I’m inclined to trust him.”

Sehun lets out a sigh, “I’m glad you think that. I honestly had no idea. _The Howl_ literally never gets nescient humans. I wasn’t careful.”

“It’s all right,” Yixing placates again, but he doesn’t make any move to go sit by the other vampire. Instead, he finds a spot on the counter and perches up on it, letting his legs dangle down and knock against the cabinets intermittently.

“You’ve apologized now,” Baekhyun says, “why don’t you head home and have your mom teach you more about recognizing allure. That way this doesn’t happen again.” Sehun gets up, much shyer in front of Baekhyun than he’d been when flirting with Yixing the night before, and nods, quickly excusing himself.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and opens a cabinet. “I’m sorry about him. He’s… young and dumb. Do you want some tea? Or to talk? Or… something?”

“It’s all right. I work with kids. I’m used to apologies and forgiving them. We all make mistakes—more so when we _are_ young.” He pauses, “And tea would be nice. Chamomile?”

Baekhyun selects a bag of tea leaves, measuring out the desired amount for a cup of tea, then uses the water boiler to ready it. He serves it up a moment later.

Yixing glances around, “I like how you’ve got a mix of modern, American things here as well as old, vintage.”

“Junmyeon likes to collect things that bring him nostalgia. This is his only personal home, so all of those items end up here. I keep my hoarding habits back in Bucheon, in my family home,” Baekhyun explains, “And buy more modern items for this place.”

“You’re from Bucheon then?”

“Yes, I came here after the Korean War,” he says. “It’s better to move around when you live as long as we do, and I’d stayed in one place far too long anyways.”

“Do you ever go back?” Yixing asks. Junmyeon had mentioned going to visit with family many times, but Baekhyun’s never done the same.

He shrugs, “Sometimes? The Gogwihan Courts have strict laws that I, by nature, can’t really abide by. When I go, I normally go alone so that Junmyeon doesn’t have to take the fall with me should I ever get hunted down.”

“But Junmyeon isn’t affected by those laws? What kind of laws?”

Baekhyun snorts, “Junmyeon’s family is part of the law-making body. They have a place on the Court. But I’m not sure vampiric affairs are quite your business, yet,” Baekhyun says, “whether you’ve been bitten or not. We keep it quiet for a reason.”

Yixing rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his tea. “Well, can you at least explain the differences between you and Junmyeon. You mentioned some, and I can obviously see some, but…” he trails off.

He sighs, as if deciding on where to start. “Vampires originally began with the Sal-inja. We’re incarnated vampires. Not born, but made—either by witchcraft or by latent energy and manifestation—“

“Which were you?”

“Manifestation. I molded myself out of latent energy and simply _became_ ,” he says, flexing his fingers as though it’s still hard to believe he’s real. “Sal-inja are… insatiable. We feed off of energy, the most potent of which is your life—your consciousness. It’s why we drink blood; that’s quite literally your life pulsing through your veins.” The way he talks makes it all sound like a story. The type you’d use to scare others.

“Our bite isn’t meant to be survived.” He opens his mouth again, running his finger along his fangs. “It’s not a _drinking_ bite, it’s a killing bite? If that makes sense. But, there were times when, against all odds, a human survived the bite. They’d shared magic with the Sal-inja, so they weren’t quite human—they still had some of the curse—but, they remained… mortal, in a sense?” He shakes his head.

“And so the Gogwihan began. Their magic ended up passing through bloodlines, since being mortal allowed them to be able to conceive. And then, from Gogwihan bites, you get the most diluted breed, the Inganui vampires. Basically human, but they have to feed just as regularly as me—so it’s still hellish. Gogwihan’s have got it best.”

He scratches the back of his head, “So, to answer your original question. Junmyeon’s like the house cat version of what I’m supposed to be? He’s a dilute of the original Sal-inja magic. So, for example, unless I’ve just fed, the sunlight’s going to kill me, stakes’ll kill me, fire, silver, the list goes on. Junmyeon can handle most of those things without having fed in years, so long as he does so in moderation. But he still has to feed from time to time, and he can’t survive off of animal blood like the Inganui can.”

Yixing leans back and, knowing what he knows now, runs through all of Junmyeon’s odd quirks. The parasol makes sense because of the sun sensitivity. The obsession with collector items. The more dated music and styles.

And Baekhyun makes more sense now too. The way he only goes out at night and has never eaten regular people food around Yixing. “So, do you turn into bats? Or like… can you see your reflections?”

“No one can turn into a bat,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. He’s grinning though, obviously gladdened by how well Yixing’s taking everything. Again, he works at a school. He’s seen and heard about a lot of unbelievable things. “But the reflections thing is somewhat true,” he says. “Junmyeon’s never seen himself and I’ve never seen myself. Reflections capture the human soul, the mortal soul, or things with no soul at all. Our souls are both rooted in the arcane. The magic blocks out the reflection.”

Yixing pauses, “But I’ve taken a picture of you and it works.”

“Have you looked at that photo?” Baekhyun asks, “Honestly, after that first display—if you even glanced at that—have you looked at it? There’s a reason Junmyeon was always scheduling live sessions without too much of a break in-between.”

Thinking of it, Yixing hadn’t ever looked at the photo he took that night. He’d looked through the view of his camera, sure, but he’d never checked the final display—figuring he could do so later. But, he’d never had to pull it up in order to re-pose them because he’d already had the sketch with all of the lights blocked in thanks to that long, first session.

_Holy shit._

“All this time, I could have opened up my camera and realized that you guys never showed up…” He shakes his head, flabbergasted. “What would you have done if that had happened?”

Baekhyun shrugs, “I figured you might just think it was an error of the camera’s. A little gaslight-y, but harmless for the most part?” He drums his fingertips against the counter. “But even then, Junmyeon probably would have come clean at some point. He hates keeping our human friends out of the loop. And the portrait. It’s more of a gift than you realize. He’s excited to see who he looks like to me.”

That soothes Yixing over a bit. He’s not liked the idea that Junmyeon and Baekhyun had such a large secret and kept it from him until he was literally endangered, but… it does bring him solace to know that Junmyeon would have eventually told him.

“Junmyeon’s sweet,” he says belatedly, taking another sip of his tea.

Baekhyun cocks his head, affection bleeding through his gaze. “I agree. You’re cute too—especially the fact that you have a crush on him.”

Yixing nearly spits. He swallows quickly, setting the tea cup down, and lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry, I try not to—“

“I’m not mad,” Baekhyun says immediately, placatingly. “I just said it was cute, didn’t I? I think you’re a good influence on him. I just hope you don’t get your heart broken.”

“I’d break Junmyeon’s heart sooner,” Yixing says, suddenly aware of the ever-present tightness in his chest.

“You’re talking about your illness, aren’t you?” Baekhyun says a beat later, tone soft.

Yixing looks up at that, eyes narrowed. “How’d you know?”

“Sensed it. I feed on vitality,” Baekhyun reminds, “I’m like a bloodhound for disease. I knew from the moment we met.” He pauses, thoughtful, “If it makes you feel better, Junmyeon doesn’t know. He’s just slightly more attuned to things. You’d have to be actively close to death for him to notice.”

“And I’m not?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, “not yet.” And that’s certainly not what he’d like to hear. But he’s almost glad that Baekhyun’s honest enough to tell him.

“When? Can you tell?”

“Just don’t catch something, Yixing,” is all he says, sighing. “You’re sitting on a precipice. I’m sure your doctor told you the same. You’re weak, you’re dying, but it’s not… assured that you’ll die soon.” He looks away, gaze swinging over to a portrait on the wall. “Junmyeon asked how he could ever repay you, once, when he looked at the portrait you’re painting. I heard what you said. Maybe, you’ll consider that we can… help you.”

Then, he’s walking out of the room. By the bags under his eyes and the fatigue evident in his stature, he’s likely going off to sleep. Leaving Yixing alone, with his last comment hanging in the air like a promise.

He’d asked for a few more years.

But is he ready for an eternity?

***

“Hey.”

It’s the first thing Junmyeon says upon his arrival back. Yixing’s feeling like himself, by now, but he’d wanted to stay, especially with the knowledge that Junmyeon had cut short his trip just to make sure Yixing was, in fact, all right.

“Hey, yourself,” Yixing says easily, smoothing his hands down his pants. “So,” he pauses, “Baekhyun tells me you’re a vampire.” And he grins, just to diffuse the nervous tension in the room.

Junmyeon melts, his shoulders loosening, and the worried look in his eyes softening. “Yeah—Baekhyun’s surprised you’ve taken it as well as you have.”

“I’m used to things that are out of the ordinary. I work with kids and artists.”

“Fair enough,” Junmyeon says, grinning now. He sits down on the other side of the couch, leaving his bag resting on the floor. “I’m glad you’re okay. When Baekhyun told me I was so worried.”

“He cleared things up, and explained some things to me,” Yixing says, “I’m glad he was there, even though I don’t think I was in any danger.”

“That’s good,” Junmyeon says again. “The first bite’s always the worst. First and last,” he continues. “If you don’t even know what’s happening, it can be a lot all at once.”

Yixing nods. Sure, it _is_ a lot. But he’s generally been quite unflappable. And with Baekhyun answering his questions and explaining his situation, the panic had never really set in. “This is killing me—it’s not your fault, I’m not mad, and there’s no reason that you have to be acting so off,” he says finally.

Junmyeon barks out a laugh, “I didn’t know how to approach it! _I’ve_ never experienced the realization of two of my friends actually being monsters. I don’t know how you’re feeling!” He reaches over and squeezes Yixing’s knee affectionately. “We’re still cool then? Haven’t scared you off?”

“Not at all,” Yixing says. “I’d never pass up having cool, undead friends. How many people can say they’ve got that?”

Junmyeon laughs again. “I’m—“ he cuts himself off, obviously searching for the best words. When he looks back up, his eyes are soft, gentle. “—really happy that you’re okay with us. I was going to tell you, but wanted to wait a little longer. I didn’t want to chance losing you.”

Yixing’s grin fades into a sweet smile. “You’re not going to lose me.” And maybe a week ago, if they’d had this conversation, Yixing would have thought he was telling a lie. But now, with Baekhyun’s suggestion in the back of his mind, he can’t help but feel like it’s a promise.

***

The next time he gets a chance to actually see Junmyeon and continue working on the portrait is nearly a month later. Unintentionally so, because Yixing had plans to work on it sooner since Junmyeon had come back to town—but, he’d caught a bug from one of his kids in the week between Junmyeon’s return and their scheduled session.

And it had been debilitating.

He’d gone to the doctor, had it confirmed that it was the flu, and while they medicated to manage the symptoms, it ran a toll on him.

He actually _feels_ like he’s ill, now. The flu has passed for sure, but there’s a wheeze to his lungs, a rattle in his chest. Something that hadn’t quite been there before, but sits abnormally prevalent now.

He hears the shop bell ring. “I’m in the back already. Make sure you lock the door behind you!”

The click of the lock travels all the way to the backroom, given how quiet things are. He’s not wired his phone to play any music yet, still in the middle of setting up for painting.

“Are we early?” Comes Baekhyun’s smooth voice. “Looks like you’re still setting up.”

“I lost track of time,” Yixing says, setting his paint palette down and moving on to set up their music. “My bad. It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” he explains, glancing up. Junmyeon’s frowning, but there’s no knowledge behind his expression.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, can clearly sense the beating Yixing’s been taking.

“What happened? You mentioned you were sick, was it that bad?” Junmyeon asks concernedly. He sits down on the couch, next to Baekhyun, and situates himself.

“One of the kids gave me a bug,” he says, ignoring the additional context that would explain just _why_ it hit Yixing so hard when it usually wouldn’t.

Junmyeon wrinkles his nose, “Kids are gross. You had someone taking care of you right? Being sick sucks, but being sick _alone_ is hell.”

Yixing nods, “I had a friend come over and help me out when I needed.” It’d been Jongdae, with his heart of gold, who’d checked up on him. Jongdae, who for once, forwent his mischief and focused on recovery. Jongdae who knew the unintended gravity of the situation, but who didn’t panic or make Yixing any more anxious than he already was. “I should probably introduce y’all to him,” he says a beat later, “You’d both get along with him—“ another pause, “—and his husband.”

“You keep telling me you’ll introduce us to your friends, but I’ve yet to meet any!” Junmyeon crows, settling into an easy conversation. Yixing notices Baekhyun remains quiet, but that’s typical for these late night sessions when Yixing’s painting. He tends to open up at dinner (probably to make up for the fact that he doesn’t eat anything).

Painting that night goes well, despite Yixing’s intermittent coughs and the couple’s growing concern. He finishes up the two of them in their entirety, with only the background to paint, and then the finishing touches. He’ll probably be able to finish in two to three weeks time, give or take. And since he’s got the background on hand, he’ll not have to bring Junmyeon or Baekhyun in to paint it.

It gives him a little more freedom of schedule.

“I think that’s all I’m good for tonight,” he says eventually, laying his brushes down and twisting the lid on his jar of his turpenoid oil. Junmyeon gets up to look, but Yixing holds out a hand. “I’d like it to be a surprise. The final piece.”

There’s a pause as Junmyeon lets this sink in and opens his mouth to argue, but then Baekhyun’s linking their fingers and squeezing his hand. “I agree with Yixing,” he says, “I think you’ll enjoy the surprise.”

Again, a hesitation as Junmyeon mulls it over. He’s obviously excited, but he also trusts Yixing _and_ Baekhyun. “All right,” he says with a nod, smiling. “I can wait. Is this our last live session?” He pouts.

“Yeah, but you should definitely keep stopping by the shop—I enjoy your company,” Yixing says, grinning. “And you _do_ have my number. If you want to hang out, just give me a call. I’m up for it.”

Junmyeon’s gaze sparkles. “Of course,” he says, tugging Baekhyun up from his seat.

Yixing feels like they’re on a precipice. The cusp of a shift.

Baekhyun—skilled at reading the room—notices it and coaxes it along. “Why don’t you and Junmyeon head out to dinner tonight?”

“Just us?” Yixing asks, arching a brow.

“I’m going to go to _the Howl_ ,” Baekhyun says. He takes his keys from his pocket and passes them to Junmyeon. “Don’t worry about me. You two have fun!” And before either can argue, he’s walking out of the room. Seconds later, out of the door as well.

Leaving Junmyeon and Yixing alone, grinning, but nervous.

“Where do you want to eat?” Junmyeon asks, breaking the silence.

Yixing takes the canvas in hand, returning it to its storage spot so that it won’t be damaged in the open studio. “Do you just want me to cook? I can whip up a curry, if you’re interested?”

Junmyeon audibly gasps, “You can _cook_?” Yixing can _see_ his heart fluttering. “Of course I’m interested,” he says, following a laugh Yixing out of the studio and up into his home.

Yixing keeps his place relatively neat, but when you live in a house as old as his, in a climate as hot and humid as theirs, it visibly wears down, giving the home a distinctly aged feel. The decor’s mostly old paintings Yixing had never been able to part with, and gifts from his students and their parents. There’s no real design to his house.

Junmyeon appears not to mind, not that Yixing expect him to. If anything, he looks to be right at home.

“Do you and Baekhyun not cook?” He asks.

“I go out to eat,” Junmyeon says. “Or I whip up… _really_ easy things at home. Like, the type of things anyone can make. Like eggs and toast.”

“Baekhyun doesn’t cook for you?”

“You, honest to god, think he learned how to cook? I’m useless in the kitchen, but he’s worse,” Junmyeon jokes. “I know _way_ back when, that Boban tried to teach him, but he never picked it up definitively. It’s okay, though, he’s cute and excels at other things.”

Yixing hums. “That’s the best way to be, right? If you can’t do one thing, just pick up something else?”

“Okay, but what can’t you do?” Junmyeon says, taking a seat at the table and perching his head on his hands. “You paint, you sing, you play music, you cook, you teach? What else is there?”

Yixing grins, “I can dance too.”

“Humble much,” Junmyeon says, and Yixing knows it’s a tease because Junmyeon had no grounds by which to critique Yixing on that one.

“Leave humility for Baekhyun,” Yixing says, “He’s good at it.” And Junmyeon’s humble too, Yixing’s seen him act it. Yixing’s the same way. But Baekhyun’s definitely less narcissistic than the both of them. Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t see his reflection.

“He’s so far from humble,” Junmyeon bemoans. “Actually, maybe _now_ he is, but if you’d met Baekhyun like sixty years ago—” Junmyeon whistles.

Yixing looks up, arching a brow. “Is that when you two actually met?”

“Yeah, the graveyard story’s actually true for the most part. When we first came to America, here specifically, we had no ties to the vampire communities already in the city? So, Baekhyun, who has never enjoyed biting living, breathing people—“

“Cause his bite’s more dangerous?” Yixing asks.

Junmyeon nods, “—would drink from fresh corpses? Which sounds disgusting, but he didn’t know me yet, and without the community you don’t know where the blood dens are, so the most humane way to survive is obviously… that. And since the graves here are above ground, they’re just easier to access in general?”

Yixing thinks of the mausoleums and vaults. Built that way because of the city’s low sea-level and tendency to flood, it’s interesting that the unintended side effect would make it like a shopping ground for vampires in need of a meal.

Junmyeon continues, “I caught him on his way out of one and latched onto him since he was the only vampire I’d met since I’d immigrated, _and_ he was from Korea. But he was _not_ a fan of me because I basically opened up with commanding him to help me. Since back home I was noble and I assumed he was Inganui or something since he was actively searching for blood.”

“He explained a little bit about that,” Yixing says, letting Junmyeon know he’s still following the conversation.

“Yeah, and Baekhyun doesn’t like being told what to do. He’s very independent. And when I came out flaunting all the pureblood bullshit, he was quick to explain why that wouldn’t fly.” Junmyeon closes his eyes, reminiscing. “We fought a lot in the beginning, but when we finally linked up with the vampire community here, it reduced to bickering. And now… we’re used to each other’s quirks and know how to work around them.”

Yixing smiles, “It must be nice to have so long to get to know someone.”

Junmyeon nods. “It has its faults, sure, but… it is nice. Eternity is a long time, so Baekhyun and I never committed to it—you never know how things change—but, we’re trying for it.”

“I think it’s good to be like that. To keep your options open, but still remain… devoted to trying? If that makes sense? Like, it’s nice that you two forsee a future together, but understand that anything could happen.”

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says. They lapse into silence as Yixing continues to flit about the kitchen, Junmyeon watching with gentle eyes. Eventually, conversation picks back up (Junmyeon’s been wanting to tell him about his trip), and later, after dinner, they’re both happy and warm.

Yixing walks Junmyeon to the door, laughing all the way. They stew there, on the landing, chatting inanely. They’re both hesitant to part.

“You know how you said anything could happen?” Junmyeon asks finally. How could Yixing forget. If anything in their conversation had stuck out, it was that piece, when Yixing felt like he might hope for something more. “What if—“ he bites his lips, mulling over his words. At this point, the build-up’s too much for him to bail out.

Yixing arches a brow, “What if?” he coaxes, leaning against the doorway.

“What if you’re that anything? What if I want you to be that for me? For Baekhyun?”

Yixing’s eyes sparkle, “I think I’d like that.”

Junmyeon’s cheeks blush. He’s lovely like this, glowing with affection, with happiness. “Good,” he says, “that’s good.”

They don’t kiss goodbye. Junmyeon just skips his way down the stairs and into Baekhyun’s car, waving giddily before driving off into the dark.

***

“Can I shelter here for the day?” It’s Baekhyun, at six in the morning, a few days later, dancing out of reach of the first rays of sunlight chasing him along the floor.

Yixing, having woken up to do early morning inventory, is equally shocked and worried to see him. “Of course,” he says, guiding Baekhyun to the back staircase. “I have to go to class in two hours, but you’re welcome to stay in my apartment. My curtains are really thick,” he explains, “and I have shutters that I can close.”

“You’re a godsend!” Baekhyun exclaims, following him up the staircase and into the dimmer environment above the studio. “I normally don’t get caught outside without having fed really recently, but I lost track of time last night—was hanging out with some Inganui friends and they don’t obviously have to worry about it all, feeding or not.”

He looks around the house, helping himself the anything Yixing’s got on display, before ending up in the kitchen, where he picks up a clementine and tosses it in between his hands.

“Have you told Junmyeon?” Yixing asks, opening up the balcony door so that he can shutter the windows. Baekhyun, diligently, avoids the blocks of sunlight that stream through in the interim.

“I just sent a text,” he says.

“Good,” Yixing continues, locking the last shutter and then returning inside, pulling the door closed behind him. “Wouldn’t want him worrying.”

“No,” Baekhyun says with a smile, “definitely wouldn’t.” He tosses Yixing the clementine—which he manages to catch, if only barely. “ _So_ , how did your date go last time. Junmyeon’s kept mum, but he looks like the cat that's got the cream, so something must have happened.”

“It was nice,” Yixing says, honestly. “We talked about you.”

“That wasn’t the point,” Baekhyun says, brows raised. He pulls out a chair from the table and sits down in it, legs falling open comfortably, arm draping over the back. “What’s the point of leaving you two alone if you talk about me?”

“Well for one, you didn’t have to leave,” Yixing says, “I’m sure both of us would have liked to have had you there. I think Junmyeon’s a package deal.”

“He is, but we don’t have to pursue anything on our own if you’re not interested,” Baekhyun says easily. “I’m good at sharing,” he continues, “definitely not food agressive,” he jokes.

Yixing rolls his eyes. “But what if I _want_ to get to know you?” There’s a silence after that, when all there is to be heard is the trickle of Yixing’s coffee maker and the soft whisp of his breath. “Junmyeon and I saw each other a lot more than I ever saw you. We _see_ each other a lot more than I see you. I don’t see anything wrong with… considering one another.”

“When did you get so brash?” Baekhyun says, lips parted.

“Junmyeon’s obtuse sometimes,” Yixing says, “I’ve learned to spell things out.”

“Takes one to know one,” Baekhyun points out.

And yeah, Yixing’s not the most observant either, though he thinks he gets a little leeway, what with being human and all. “All I’m saying is that if you’re going to let Junmyeon and I pursue one another—I’d like to get to know you too. I don’t see why I wouldn’t want to. After all, we’re both in love with the same person, right?”

Baekhyun smiles. “Yeah, we are.” But he doesn’t continue along that line of thought, instead redirecting the conversation onto safer, mundane topics. He’s a nice voice to have around so early in the morning, lively and friendly. A good send off to have in order to ensure the day will be a good one.

But, when Yixing returns at the end of the school day to see him draped across the couch, arm slung across his face, and a sliver of sunlight cutting across his stomach where his shirt’s run up—the first thing he does is panic.

He steps into the light just as Baekhyun wakes up, body tensing, eyes narrowing, and bearing his teeth. Then, he notices Yixing’s spot in front of the bright crack of light, and then, notices the burn that’s cut across his stomach.

He pulls his shirt down and curls up on the side of the couch, that way Yixing can move, and though the light still shines across the room, Baekhyun’s safely tucked away from it.

“Did you not feel it?” Yixing asks, eyes wide.

“I fed… semi-recently. It wasn’t uncomfortable enough to wake me up, sorry,” Baekhyun says, inspecting the burn now. “I’m lucky though! If I hadn’t, you’d have come back to a pile of bones. And then you’d be stuck with Junmyeon.” His tone is way too unbothered.

“Not funny,” Yixing says drily, setting his bags down.

“A little funny,” Baekhyun says, “If I treated all my close calls seriously I’d be miserable.”

Yixing shakes his head. “How many have you had, then?”

“What? Close calls?” Baekhyun asks. He taps his chin. “I had a few back before I met Junmyeon, but I’ve had way more since. As the world modernizes, it gets harder for me to constantly drink. The less I drink, the weaker I become.” He grows quiet, “Gogwihan are meant to survive a place like this. Inganui too. But Sal-inja. We’re going to be archaic very soon.”

Something in his voice tells Yixing that maybe, just maybe, they’ve hit one of Baekhyun’s insecurities. One of his very few fears.

“I think you’re evidence enough that the Sal-inja can survive a modern world,” Yixing says carefully.

Baekhyun looks up, still smiling, but it’s lopsided, sad even. “It’s going to keep getting harder, though. Did I ever explain what it’s like in Korea?”

“You said it wasn’t my affair, if I’m quoting you correctly,” Yixing says, making his way into the kitchen to fix a cup of cheap, instant coffee. He returns a few minutes later, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch.

Baekhyun’s looking down at his hands, twisting his rings around his fingers. “In Korea, there’s something we call synthetic. It’s a chemical substitute for the euphoria drinking blood elicits. Gogwihan can live on it entirely. Inganui can as well.” He pauses, wringing his hands. “Sal-inja can’t. But, to the Courts, that’s of little concern. Sal-inja, after all, are killers by nature.”

“Can’t you just go to a blood den, then?” Yixing asks, with a sinking feeling in his stomach—already expecting Baekhyun’s answer.

“They’re outlawed. Of course, they exist. That’s how I manage to visit home every now and then, but… if you’re caught in one, the consequences are…” He trails off.

Yixing doesn’t ask him to explain.

“They’re trying to do that here in America. Create a society that can subsist off of synthetic only. I’m not sure what the Americans call _their_ version of the Sal-inja, but it’s the same concept. They’re trying to cull us.” He’s quiet. “If it comes down to it, and _the Howl_ or any of the other blood dens I use to supplant my diet are shut down, Junmyeon can’t support me. I’ll actually kill him. And then what?”

Yixing has nothing to say. No advice to offer. These politics are above his head. A world he’s never been a part of.

“All I’m saying is that there’s going to be a point—maybe not in the near future—but in the future when Junmyeon’s going to be alone. And it’s probably going to be some dumb accident where I get caught outside too long after feeding, but… “ he trails off again, then looks up abruptly. “The point I’m trying to make is that I make jokes now because it’s scary for me, but I’m more scared about Junmyeon. I don’t want him to be alone. I’m trying to prepare.”

“You talk like a hero, you shouldn’t,” Yixing says, very calmly. “You talk like it’s an inevitability. And, yeah, maybe it is, but I don’t see why you have to dwell on it.” He reaches over to squeeze Baekhyun’s hand.

“You don’t dwell on it, do you?” Baekhyun says, minutes later, breaking the silence.

Yixing knows what he’s talking about immediately. “I try not to.”

Baekhyun says nothing more, curling up against the arm of the couch while they continue to wait for the sun to go down. In time, he falls asleep, and Yixing goes down to his studio to paint.

***

“I can’t believe you’re sick again,” Jongdae says, setting a bowl of soup down on the table. Yixing smiles at him gratefully and begins to eat, not really sure how he’s meant to respond to a statement like that. “Your kids are literally going to kill you.”

“I agree, my kids are practically little germ incubators—as children typically are—but I’d prefer you not put it like that,” he murmurs.

Jongdae frowns, “I know, and I’m not… blaming them. I’m just worried.”

“You know as well as I do that they try their best,” Yixing says, “and sometimes their parents just can’t arrange reliable childcare with no notice, and have to send a sick kid to school.”

“I feel like whenever this happens though, you know exactly which kid it is already, because it’s like they seek you out.”

“I’m nice,” Yixing says, spooning more soup into his mouth. “I’d rather a sick kid come to me because I’m comforting than avoid me because they expect me to reject them.”

“But it’s your health, Yixing,” Jongdae says, whine evident in his tone. “I’ve looked it up. Influenza is a gateway to a respiratory infection. And clearly the flu shot’s not doing enough, since you keep catching it. Your kids need to be reminded that if they're sick they need to do their best not to spread it.”

“We’ve had talks already. We’re washing hands frequently, we’re doing more outside activities so that we can spread out. I’m trying. I just—“ he cuts himself off, shaking his head.

Before Jongdae can continue, there’s a knock on the door.

Jongdae looks up. “Who’s that?”

“Beats me,” Yixing says. “It’s unlocked, just come in!” He yells.

The door pops open and two figures duck inside. Junmyeon’s instantly identifiable (even if he hadn’t been holding his characteristic umbrella). Baekhyun is a little more shocking to see, wrapped in layers of clothing, with a massive brim hat on his head.

They shut the door, draw the curtains, and then, turn to greet him.

And notice Jongdae.

Jongdae who looks simultaneously intrigued and horrified.

“Jongdae, meet Junmyeon and Baekhyun. Junmyeon and Baekhyun, meet Jongdae.”

Baekhyun takes off his hat and tosses it onto the hooks hanging next to the door, three layers of coats and gloves following in quick succession. He toes off his shoes last. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, when his ritual undressing’s been completed. “We see you’re taking care of Yixing.”

“Someone has to,” Jongdae says drily. “He’s bad at doing it himself.”

Junmyeon makes his way over to them, greeting Jongdae properly and actually explaining what their relation is to Yixing—even though Yixing’s sure Jongdae’s already got a clue. Baekhyun, on the other hand, takes a seat next to Yixing, resting his head on his arms.

“You’re sick again,” he says with a frown.

“Is it bad?” Yixing asks, glancing over at where Junmyeon’s got Jongdae locked in conversation. As he is typical to do.

Baekhyun eyes them as well, obviously not wanting to alarm either one of them by his answer. “Not yet, but it’s going to be. If you don’t shake it really soon, it’s going to progress to an infection,” Baekhyun says. “If it makes you feel better, your body’s putting up a good fight?”

“I’m sure,” Yixing says, shaking his head.

“Woah there, it’s not that bad,” Baekhyun says immediately, eyes wide. “So don’t get all mopey on me.”

Yixing levels him with a look.

That’s when they both notice Jongdae and Junmyeon’s conversation coming to a lull. Baekhyun drops the topic and waits for the two of them to sit down.

“I was just telling Jongdae that we can take over, if you’re all right with that?” Junmyeon asks, sitting down. Jongdae remains standing, gaze falling onto Baekhyun curiously.

“Sure,” Yixing says, “If you want to deal with me when I’m all oozey and gross, have at it.”

Baekhyun snorts.

“I’ll take care of you whenever you’re oozey and gross,” Junmyeon says, fluttering his lashes jokingly. Jongdae wrinkles his nose, but his eyes are sparkling, lips quirked with amusement. Yixing’s sure that the next time he and Jongdae are together, he’ll be facing a well-intentioned interrogation.

“In that case, I am going to head back home. Minseok’s got an early shift, and I don’t want to let Iseul keep him up,” Jongdae says, he reaches over and ruffles Yixing’s hair. “Call me once your friends have to leave,” he says, motioning at both Junmyeon and Baekhyun, “And I’ll see if I can come back. Or I’ll send Chanyeol to help you. And try to get better won’t you. This sick thing’s getting old,” he teases, bringing some lightness back to the room.

Yixing smiles, nodding. “Will do. Make sure you don’t get Iseul or Minseok sick, all right.”

Jongdae salutes him playfully and waves to them all, then leaves through the door.

Junmyeon’s immediately turning his concern on Yixing, “I can’t believe you’re sick again,” he echoes Baekhyun’s earlier sentiment almost perfectly. “Your immune system must suck,” he says with a low whistle. “What can we do to help?”

“Just hang out and keep my mind off of it,” Yixing says honestly.

Junmyeon’s face softens. “We can do that. What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about whenever you grew up. I know y’all met each other within the last century. Are you older than that?”

“I’m from King Muyeol’s Reign,” Baekhyun says, “maybe mid-600s, Silla? I married an aristocrat’s daughter, Boban, but then we both fled after the Revolt against Sinmun failed. Took up living in a farming village. I honestly can’t say I’ve done much since then—I mostly just… see where the wind takes me.”

“Baekhyun’s just trying to explain that he’s basically a hermit.”

Yixing hums in agreement. “Is Boban a vampire too?”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “No, she was human. It was an arranged marriage, originally, but, we got along better than I think she assumed with would. She wanted me to turn her, but I can’t. I didn’t want to try and then be the cause of her death, so I just… stayed with her ’til the end.”

“Loyal,” Yixing murmurs, somewhat in awe of the fact that Baekhyun’s lived whole life-times and here he is, well-adjusted and normal.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun agrees. “Loyal to the grave.” Then, he looks to Junmyeon. “His life was much more interesting. He was actually involved in vampire politics.”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes and begins relating his experiences in the Joseon Era, which is when he’d been born. He explains growing up more-or-less like a human before he eventually stopped aging—his magic catching up enough to halt cellular death. “I was the nobility’s most eligible bachelor,” Junmyeon boasts, “but I never married. I got distracted by travel and art and whatnot.”

Yixing can see it.

“I avoided the Wars,” he explains. “The Gogwihan nobles were always good at avoiding conflict. Baekhyun had to chase it since it was a humane way to feed, but since we can drink without killing, we always avoided scenes that might endanger us.” He shrugs, “After all of it, I ended up here in America. Thought I’d try my hand here, since the ghost stories were prevalent.”

“And then you two met.”

“Yep,” they say.

He nods, satisfied with the stories. “You’ll have to tell me more sometime, but right now, I think I’ll go down for another nap.” And Junmyeon helps tuck him into bed.

***

He wakes up only a few hours later, alone in his room. He doesn’t feel great, but he wants desperately to distract himself with _something_ , _anything_. He flips the blankets off his legs, slides his feet into a pair of slippers, and makes his way out of his room and down the hall.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun lie on the couch together, Junmyeon snoring softly, but Baekhyun’s eyes wide awake and alert. He meets Yixing’s gaze, canting his head questioningly. “ _Do you need anything?”_ He mouths.

Yixing shakes his head, putting up a hand to placate him, and points downstairs. _“Going to go paint for a little bit. I’ll call if I need you.”_

Baekhyun nods, lying his head back down on the arm of the couch, pulling Junmyeon closer. Yixing turns and makes his way downstairs, pulling the portrait out of its place and setting it atop the easel. He takes out his palettes again, peeling the plastic film off of the paints, and sits down at his stool, beginning to paint.

The focus is requires helps him ignore how ill he feels. How chills have begun to creep up his spine. How his chest rattles and crackles with every breath.

He stays down there until the sun’s peeking up over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the floor.

Putting down his brush and stepping back from the painting, he decides that it’s done.

Footsteps sound on the stairs. Two sets of them.

Junmyeon comes down first, Yixing turning to see what his first glimpse of the painting looks like.

His mouth falls open in shock, awe, and his eyes grow wide. “ _Oh_ ,” he says, walking over to Yixing’s side. He doesn’t touch, but his hand hovers over the wet paint, as though he _wants_ to. “This is _me_?” He asks, somewhat shocked.

Baekhyun comes up behind Yixing, perching his head on Yixing’s shoulder and looking over at the painting. He doesn’t look as shocked as Junmyeon—perhaps he’s had someone tell him what he looks like, before—but even _his_ gaze is filled with wonder.

“That’s you,” Yixing says, wheezy.

Junmyeon frowns, looking away from the painting and onto Yixing. “Are you all right? Something seems… _off_?”

Yixing can’t help the lace of anxiety that runs through him, the tension of it forcing his shoulders into a rigid set, his eyes wide. Baekhyun had said Junmyeon wouldn’t notice anything until it got bad. Until he was actually—

Baekhyun, too, frowns, reaching down to take one of Yixing’s hands and squeeze. “Hey, don’t panic. It’s still okay,” he says. “But maybe it’s time we talk about things?”

Yixing nods shakily. Baekhyun leads them all back upstairs. It’s still early. Yixing had already called ahead and said he might not be able to come in today. He should call and confirm that. “Stop thinking so much,” Baekhyun admonishes. “I can practically hear you worrying.”

They all sit down on the couch.

Baekhyun squeezes Yixing’s hand again before he pulls away. His meaning’s obvious. It’s time Yixing told Junmyeon what’s going on. “You know how I keep getting sick?” He asks, keeping his gaze down.

Junmyeon’s hand cups his cheek, guides his eyes up to meet his own. “Yeah? Is it something we’ve been doing?”

Yixing snorts, lips quirked into a half-smile, “No, it’s nothing you’ve done. If anything it’s my students who keep getting me sick. Just—“ he pauses, weighing how best to put things. ”—I have COPD, it’s chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It developed because I used to paint with improper—really no—ventilation back in college.”

“Oh?” Junmyeon says. Yixing can see the gears turning. It’s obvious he’s never heard of the disease (despite how common it is), but he works out what it is based off of Yixing’s description of the acronym. “What does that mean for you?”

“I’m at an increased risk for lung infections and, eventually, respiratory failure,” Yixing says. “I’m dying.” It’s so blunt.

Several emotions cross Junmyeon’s face. First, confusion, then shock, and finally fear. “Is there anything that can be done?” He whispers, eyes wide.

“I treat the symptoms,” Yixing says, “No more, no less. I probably have a few months, even with the severe progression I have—but since I keep getting sick, I don’t know if that’ll still hold true?”

Junmyeon shakes his head, at a loss for words. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He asks.

Baekhyun hums, “I could tell,” he says quietly, honest as always. “But it wasn’t my secret to share.”

Junmyeon chews his lip. “But you let me fall in love? Both of you? You let me fall in love?” He says it like he can’t believe they’d do that to him. Like he can’t believe they’d let him fall for someone fated to die.

Yixing shakes his head, “Baekhyun, actually—“ he bites his tongue, glancing to Baekhyun to make sure it’s all right to continue. The vampire meets his gaze and nods, slow and sure. “—he suggested that there is something we can do. He wanted me to think on it, and, well, I have.”

Yixing watches realization pass over Junmyeon’s face. “I can’t change you, though. I’ll make you and Inganui. You’d have to drink just as often as Baekhyun. And if the blood dens ever get—“

“ _You’re_ thinking too much now,” Baekhyun says, calming Junmyeon down with the simple sound of his voice. “Who said you’d have to turn him?”

Yixing eyes Baekhyun’s teeth as he says this, a flash of fear rising up in his chest. But, he trusts Baekhyun—figures he’s thought something out.

“My bite kills because it tears out too much all at once. You bite him, I’ll turn him. If that’s Yixing’s choice, anyways?” Both of them look to him.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t intent on saying yes,” Yixing responds. “But, tell me what it’s going to be like before we do anything. Please? I’m tired of being sick and feeling like I’m going to die, and I’ve given it enough thought that I’m ready, but…” he trails off.

“Junmyeon will bite you. It’ll have the same effect as before. A trance-like, dreamy state of mind. Because you feel safer here, it’s not going to escalate to a panic. But I’m going to be the one to turn you. My venom’s going to paralyze and numb you. It’ll feel like a high that never reaches a cusp,” Baekhyun explains. “You will drink from me just as I drink from you,” he continues, “And when you awake, your body will begin to repair itself as Gogwihan.”

Junmyeon nods along with this, running through the reasoning and deciding that it doesn’t lack.

“Because you will wake as a Gogwihan, you will essentially still be human. Your blood lust will only have to be satiated once every few years, and you can drink from Junmyeon to do so. So, you’ll be able to go to the doctor and make a miraculous recovery. You’ll be able to remain… human, in a sense. Perhaps, more sun sensitive, but human.”

“What about my reflection?”

“Pictures you’ve already taken will keep their image,” Junmyeon says, “because they’vealready trapped a part of your soul. But you should maybe consider adding yourself to our portrait one day. So you don’t forget.”

Yixing grins. “Of course.” Then, bringing a tentative hand to his neck, feeling his pulse, he weighs his options one last time. Immortality. With or without Baekhyun and Junmyeon. Or death, most certainly without them, and everyone else he loves. “Okay,” he says, “I’m sure this is what I want.”

“Do you want to wait?”

Yixing shakes his head, “I’m afraid that the longer I wait, the more people I’ll worry. I’d rather recover for them than keep wasting away. Especially if something happens and I end up in a place that you two _can’t_ turn me.” 

Junmyeon nods. “Then, just trust us.”

He pulls Yixing close, and, before lower his lips to the human’s neck, he pauses. “Should we have a first kiss before—“

And Yixing laughs brightly, because of course Junmyeon would think of that. “Sure,” he says, still grinning when Junmyeon ducks down to lay a sweet, affectionate kiss on his lips. It sends a pleased little buzz down his spine—love, bright and generous.

Then comes the bite. Junmyeon wastes little time, and while there is a prickling discomfort at first, it washes away nearly immediately. Baekhyun takes his place, hot breath washing over Yixing’s skin before he lowers his mouth over the bite, teething at it to force the wound open just the slightest bit more.

Yixing can smell his blood, but it has no bearing on his anxiety—which is no where to be found. There is only the growing wave of bliss that creeps through his neck and into his head. It’s a warm fog that sends him hurtling into a dream.

A wrist presses to his lips, already cut open, warmth flowing into his mouth and down his throat.

And the feeling of euphoria continues to climb, even as his eyes flutter shut, and he begins to gasp, nearly choking on the blood running down his throat. A hand lands in his hair, petting, soothing, keeping him from panicking even now that Yixing’s losing feeling in his limbs, losing memory of where and who he is.

His vision blacks out.

***

The hunger is like a dull ache, not the searing, insatiable desire as it is described in the movies or books. It’s simply _there_ , waiting to be fed.

He sits up, and the first thing he notices is that, he’s without his cough, without his sniffling, without his headache. He’s… normal, if anything. Normal all apart from that hunger. He looks around. Junmyeon’s sat wide-awake, with Yixing’s hand in his, just next to him. He looks concerned up until Yixing smiles.

“I feel human,” he says simply.

“You’re not,” comes a voice from the floor. Baekhyun’s stretched out on his stomach on the carpet, his head lying on his arms. He appears to be _glowing_ with energy, his skin is the most life-like Yixing’s ever seen, and the power that seems to radiate off him is _alive_ , not that sleepy presence that Yixing’s become used to. “But, that’s what we wanted, right?”

“Yeah,” Yixing says in a breath. “That’s exactly what we wanted.”

“Are you ready for eternity?” Junmyeon asks, dragging Yixing’s attention back onto him.

He nods.


	2. Chapter 2

“I re-signed my contract,” Yixing says, arriving back home. “Explained that, for whatever reason, my illness had suddenly regressed. The doctor’s note helped as well. I was so worried they wouldn’t take me back after my absences this year,” he explains, tossing his bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the couch next to Baekhyun.

He noses against Yixing’s neck, playful. “That’s good, teaching must mean a lot to you.”

“It does,” he says. And then, noticing the absence in the room, asks, “where’s Junmyeon?”

“He’s on the phone out on the balcony,” Baekhyun explains, “From what I can hear—“

Yixing strains to listen, but hears nothing. Baekhyun’s senses must be more attuned, then. Which would explain all of the times he woke up to Yixing’s most quiet of entrances.

“—he’s arguing with a few of his partners in the Courts. He’s trying to have the Sanguine Statutes repealed,” Baekhyun says. “If they manage it, I’ll be able to visit home from time to time.”

“Is there any reason he’s trying now?”

“He wants me to be able to go back for mine and Boban’s anniversary. He’s a romantic and thinks I’d like to be able to visit her grave.”

“Would you?” Yixing asks, because his perception of Baekhyun is that—while not as romantic as Junmyeon might be, not as idealistic—he is loyal and attached, in his own quiet way, to his past. It had taken a few visits to Junmyeon and his’s manor house before he’d realized that some of the portraits on the walls were _of_ Boban and other people from both of their lives.

Baekhyun hums, “I would like to visit it. See how things have changed.” A moment later, “I miss home.”

“We have all of the time in the world to wait. Surely, we can go back one day.” _We_ , because Yixing’s part of this pair now. He’s twined up in their lives and welcome to explore every facet of them.

“We can,” Baekhyun agrees, nipping Yixing’s earlobe playfully. “Anyways, is the dinner still on for tonight?”

“Yep!” Yixing says, grinning. “Kyungsoo and Chanyeol are going to cook over at Soo’s place, Minseok and Jongdae are going to bring Iseul over, and then it’s just me and the two of you,” he explains.

Junmyeon chooses this moment to reenter the house, frowning. “I’m sorry—“ he starts to say immediately.

“—it’s nothing to worry about,” Baekhyun cuts him off, “I’ve got you two, it’s okay.” Which placates him for the time being—though knowing Junmyeon he might get emotional about it later. It’s at this moment he notices Yixing’s home and his face splits into a grin.

“Yixing, did the meeting go well?”

“Yeah,” Yixing says, and begins to relate to him the same thing he’d told Baekhyun, warmth settling sweetly in the middle of his chest.

That warmth remains in place all the way up to the door at Kyungsoo’s. They’d run a little late. Jongdae had insisted on having dinner at seven-forty-five, but sundown was at eight. Even well-fed, Baekhyun’s uncomfortable in the sunlight, and the twenty minute drive to Kyungsoo’s would have probably been too much exposure for him to avoid burns.

But they’re here now.

Yixing opens the door nervously. It’s not that he’s worried about how his friends will receive their being late (honestly, Chanyeol struggles to cook anything quite on time, so they’re probably walking in at just the right moment), but this is the first time he’s actually getting around to introducing _both_ Baekhyun and Junmyeon.

Jongdae’s met them both, briefly, but other than that, everyone else has a better knowledge of Junmyeon—and it’s he that they may have run into once or twice while at Yixing’s shop. After all, Baekhyun’s a hermit.

“Yixing!” It’s Jongdae, grinning brightly. “You’re right on time.”

They all step inside. By the way Baekhyun flinches, Yixing knows it’s a lot to take in all at once—sound, scent, _and_ sight.

“I figured you’d misjudge when dinner was ready,” Yixing says, grinning. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol both look up—just a little stressed—as multiple timers go off all at once. “Where do you want the wine?” He asks, pointing at the bottles Junmyeon holds in his hands.

“Counter,” Kyungsoo says shortly, grabbing a dish rag to grab the two handles on a boiling pot of water. “Watch out,” he murmurs to Chanyeol, bringing it over to the sink to strain it.

Junmyeon’s not one to get overwhelmed easily, and as soon as he sets down the wine, he’s striking up a conversation with both of them.

Yixing looks back for Baekhyun, knowing he gets shy around new people, and finds him greeting Minseok and Jongdae both.

There’s a tug on his pant leg. “Uncle Yixing?” It’s Iseul.

He crouches, “What’s up, kiddo?” and ruffles her hair.

She grins, grabs his hand, and says, “Come see the picture I drew you.”

And Yixing decides everything’s going to be fine. This thing, with Junmyeon and Baekhyun, is going to work out.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/syzygybbh) | [CuriousCat](https://t.co/KYC8gCVmPh?amp=1) !
> 
> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to check out the little epilogue!


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